Breaking Façade
by Iosyn
Summary: The war, his life at the Dursleys, both had left scars. Some deeper then others, but all nicely tucked away behind a façade of normalcy. But what if that façade starts cracking, what lies underneath and how will Harry cope? First story, no pairings as of yet. This story is AU and will discard at the very least the epilogue of Deathly Hallows.
1. Chapter 1 - Just fine-

First of: Any and all characters, situations and everything else you recognize belongs to either J.K. Rowling or 20th Century Fox. Everything else is me dabbling the in universe they created. No money is being made by this work of fan fiction, etc etc.

Hi all, this is my first time writing and this particular chapter was written in a sleep deprived haze. I've checked and triple checked so I think it's kind of alright, feedback would be very welcome, so R&amp;R!

**Breaking Façades **

**Chapter 1 -Just fine- **

Connections. They are what make us human, they are what make us belong. The connections you form, form you. Looking back at one's life it is possible to see the crossroads. The points in your own personal destiny where, if you took the road less travelled on, you would be fundamentally different from who you are now. Different meetings, different situations, being on time for that bus and meeting the love of your life. Missing that flight and losing your job and all that you build with it. Humans become stagnant, we form connections our whole life, but after childhood most of those connections are between like-minded others. This we keep doing until we have limited ourselves to that corner of society that belongs to our label.

When our connections are, for some reason or another, broken, we have to rebuild. The strength of character that takes is your personal measure of greatness. It cannot be compared to another's suffering and, indeed, should not be. For suffering is suffering, there are no gradations as such, for one cannot compare to another's suffering without having been that person in all that he or she is. Walking a lifetime in another's heart and mind.

Connections are, on a more base level, also that what holds our bodies together. Quarks, protons, electrons, neutrons, atoms. DNA gives us gifts. Some of us are capable of putting the meaning of life in numbers, others have so much empathy that they cannot condone suffering.

Yet others can convey emotions with just the sound of their voice or the power of their writing. In some of us those gifts shine so brightly one man or woman can inspire entire generations; **Ghandi**, **Curie,** **King**, **Mandela**, **Angelou**. In yet others those gifts explode with such conviction they activate an entire community or indeed saves them; **Betty Williams and ****Mairead Corrigan****, ****Sir Nicholas George Winton, Sylvia Rae Rivera and Marsha P. Johnson.**

All of us have these gifts within us, how they are used depends on the connections we form and the convictions we have. Even if you just inspire one person, you could be the catalyst of a change that has been waiting to happen. _That_ is the power of the human race, what sets us apart from our more primal co-inhabitants on this earth . But what if, through evolution, those beacons of power grow into something more. Something we might only be seeing the beginning of right now.

_-Mutation: it is the key to our evolution. It has enabled us to evolve from a single-celled organism into the dominant species on the planet. This process is slow, and normally taking thousands and thousands of years. But every few hundred millennia, evolution leaps forward.- Professor Charles Xavier _

* * *

Everything was fine, not perfect by any chance, but just fine. And fine was good, it meant no surprises, no psychotic murderers coming back from the grave (again) to kill you and those you hold dear. Life after the war was just fine and Harry liked it that way. Being brought into another societies war at the tender age of eleven, after growing up in a household that did nothing to encourage and protect a young child had left its marks, Harry knew that. But as every human being who has gone through adversity does, he had learned to cope. And that was why everything was fine and could never be less then fine.

Fine for Harry meant living the Wizarding world's picture perfect dream life for their chosen one. In all honesty, this meant being there when pictures needed to be taken and to fight against the dark so to give the populace some sort of peace of mind. In other way's Harry walked his own path. Marriage for example, was out of the question, the occasional hook-up was fine. Marriage was most certainly not fine, marriage meant people coming too close and while he could easily keep up the façade of being the perfect hero for the sheeples, even Harry had to break down every once in a while, when things where less then fine. As he became more set in his ways in the years after the war. More confined in the safety of the façade, where he knew what people expected of him, the "less then fine" almost ceased happening.

Of course, for the purpose of this story, it cannot stay that way. And truly, life is not complete without some adversity, a full life has high's and low's not just "fine's". Façades break, and Harry would figure that out eventually...

* * *

_September 24__th__ 2008_

"_Today is a fine day"_ Harry thought as he went about his daily ablutions. And indeed it was, the sun was sort of trying to peek out through the clouds, it wasn't too humid nor windy. Nor was it too warm or..."_Fine, today is fine and that is all that needs to be said about it" _Harry thought.

After putting his robes on, Harry wandered downstairs, opened a window to let an owl, carrying the Daily Prophet, in. Putting some sickles in a pouch carried by the rather harried looking animal, wondering all the while what could make an owl look harried. Harry poured in some coffee with his sugar as he opened the sorry excuse for a newspaper to read about the next scandal that a ministry official wasn't able to cover up by burying it under a mountain of gold. Not finding anything of much interest, as per usual really, he checked the Quidditch scores out of habit to see if the Chudley's had gone up any more in the rankings.

After all, when your best mate is the team's coach, you have an obligation to keep up with, at the very least, the rank the team holds. Not seeing any change since the last time he checked (which was the day before) Harry drank the rest of his overly sweet coffee and got ready to go to work. After debating walking over apparating, and quickly deciding to chose the latter, after all things only stay fine when contact with the outer world was as limited as possible. Harry popped over to the nearest ministry appointed apparition point and made his way through the throngs of wizards and witches doing the exact same thing. Moving through the masses in a practiced choreographed dance of chaos and order. The sudden appearance of people, one after the other, in flashes of green or following a small popping sound, all going towards their destinations within the ministry building, was quite beautiful in a strange way. But none seemed to notice, as for them it was business as usual.

* * *

After the war Harry had little time for rest and relaxation, he needed to keep busy. The demands of the Wizarding public to see him cutting ribbons and taking pictures with babies (alright maybe it wasn't that bad all the time) kept him from thinking too much about all that he lost. The job offers flooded in, even without him having finished his N.E.W.T.'s. Hermione, sweet, reliable, scary as hell Hermione made sure Ron and he finished their education. That was the last year of what should have been his childhood. Social contact was really limited for Harry. Most people couldn't see passed his Chosen one status and after trying to form closer bonds with people other than Ron and Hermione, he gave up. Ron, Hermione and the Weasley's where enough. Teddy and Andromeda he felt an obligation to, but his fear of hurting Teddy kept him at the distance a family friend usually has.

After graduating with average scores and an above average social standing Harry went for a career in Magical Law Enforcement. After all, what other choice was there? Ron joined him and both of them served five years on the force until both realised that this was, most definitely, _not_ the job of their dreams. The work required so much more paperwork then the both of them expected. And, besides that, after the first few years most ex-death eaters where rounded up. So all that was left was going after petty criminals. Ron made the decision to follow his real dream, Harry followed him partially and resigned as an auror. With no clear idea of what to do next he confined himself as much as possible to Grimmauld place, making that his safe house. A place where he could always retreat to when in need.

Hermione experiences with the ministry left quite the bitter taste in her mouth. Working as a glorified librarian in the Department of Mysteries for four years was all she got with her perfect scores. The brightest witch of their generation had to fight and work not to be demoted. After a couple of years it became quite clear that a promotion was never going to happen. And all of this because of her, in the eyes of the prejudiced old farts who still held a lot of sway, less than perfect bloodline. Reality is harsh, but one can forge their own path if one is willing to work for it. And, surprisingly, in the case of Ron and, not so surprisingly, in the case of Hermione, they were willing to work hard.

As mentioned before, Ron worked his way up from broomstick handler to coach of the Chudley Cannon's, his favourite Quidditch team. That last promotion happened only three months ago and he was ecstatic. The party thrown at the Burrow was large, loud and gave Harry a whole new appreciation for the colour orange. Harry thought that for Ron, life was finally fine as well. No longer in anyone's shadow, outgrowing many of the insecurities and strengthening many of his talents made Ron successful and well loved. Ron kept Harry company, got him through some of his darkest moments and thereby solidified his place at Harry's side as his rock.

Hermione forged a different path, incensed by the still present bigotry she wanted to be the catalyst to a change. The Hermione who once started S.P.E.W. had grown up, not losing any of her fire but it was more tempered. More under control, and that is what made her all the more dangerous. She returned to the mundane world, she remained in contact with Ron and Harry but refused to work in Wizarding Britain. After catching up with the mundane education she missed whilst at Hogwarts, Hermione eventually found her niche at the Kings College in London. There she studied Molecular Biophysics and obtained her master's degree in it. She always found time to be with Harry, where Ron was unmovable she was the fluidity that Harry needed to continue on living. Sometimes as gentle as a stream, more often as powerful as a tsunami, Hermione's will was what made Harry keep going. She eventually convinced him to do something different, to do something that would make Harry happy.

Harry floundered for a while, having enough money to comfortably live a couple of years without the need of work, there was little pressure. The Wizarding populace was at this point less involved, the war was over and many of them fell back in their comfortable lives where everything was fine. Harry no longer needed to be in the spotlight constantly and thus decided he wanted to see more of the world, mundane and otherwise. He spent two years travelling all over, never really making an impression just watching from the shadows, observing the life of others in different cultures. Harry noticed subtle differences between him and others his age. Where Harry himself seemed both more weary and grown-up, others seemed almost innocent. He missed so many milestones in his life that connecting to others who hadn't walked the same path as Ron and Hermoine had with him, was difficult. There was no jealousy within him for that innocence, he cherished it in a way. It was so different from the world he was forced to grow up in. Mundanes saw the world as a place to discover, to learn from. Evermore forging onwards in their curiosity and changing the landscape of that world for good and bad. In comparison the Wizarding world was stagnant and Harry could see no way to change that. This love for that powerful curiosity of mundanes made Harry that he eventually found a job in the Department of International Magical Cooperation . Specifically in the newest and lesser known sub department of Muggle Relations. The job wasn't that interesting, but it was fine and that suited Harry to a T.

* * *

_September 30__th__ 2008_

The last three years had passed in a blur for Harry, a fine blur, but a blur nonetheless. Sadly life has a way of changing pace when you least expect it. For Harry that was today, but that realisation would come somewhat later. In a couple of years this would be looked back upon as Harry's personal crossroad, the day he was forced onto the path less travelled on. Because fate, that's why.

"_Today is a fine day"_ Harry thought as he went about his daily ablutions. And indeed it was, the sun was sort of trying to peek out through the clouds, it wasn't too humid nor windy. Nor was it too warm or..."_Fine, today is fine and that is all that needs to be said about it" _Harry thought.

After putting his robes on, Harry wandered downstairs, opened a window to let an owl, carrying the Daily Prophet, in. After having paid the wet looking bird "_Wait..wet?" _Harry thought but immediately pushed the thought as far out of his mind as possible. Grabbing his cup he poured half a cup of coffee and then filled another third of it with sugar. Grabbing the inexplicably dry Prophet. "Magic" Harry muttered to himself. He opened the paper his eyes not really taking much in, as in his world he knew what to expect. The human mind is after all quite capable of ignoring any and everything that does not belong in ones expectations, in the patterns we create for ourselves. Having built up his safe place with magic and illusions in his own mind, anything that did not go the way it was supposed to go was ignored. Thus none of the news really penetrated Harry's thoughts. If it had he would have realised today would most definitely not be fine in any sense of the word.

After again deciding to apparate to work, Harry quickly fell into the dance of orderly chaos that was the entrance hall of the Ministry of Magic at rush hour.

Arriving at his desk in a small office shared with his superior, an older witch named Evelyn Darcy, Harry got his first surprise of the day. Surprises had become a hated thing, but as is the nature of a surprise, one can hardly control it. Sitting at the desk of his superior was none other than Kingsley Shacklebolt, minister of Magic himself.

"Good morning, Harry" Kingsley said cautiously. Harry shifted somewhat on his feet, why was the minister of Magic sitting in his office? This was not how the day was supposed to start, or even end. There was nothing in his calendar even suggesting a meeting with Kingsley. What's more, meetings with the minister of Magic where usually reserved for the head of the department. Harry was no more than a junior undersecretary, a perfectly fine job which allowed him to work without being noticed overly much.

"Minister Shacklebolt" Harry replied equally cautiously. If one were to step into the office at this exact point in time one would think the minister of Magic was trying to soothe a rather frightened animal. Looking at the slayer of Voldemort, that actually would be a rather apt description. Harry looked ready to bolt, his only reason for staying put was that maybe, just maybe, everything would still be fine. Maybe Shacklebolt just wanted to talk to Darcy and was waiting for her in the office? Not that that made a lot of sense but it would mean Harry's world would still stay and be fine. "How have you been Harry?" Harry looked quizzically at Shacklebolt, as if he asked if the world was still round or the sun was still rising and setting. "...Just fine, minister".

"Right, well that's... good? Don't let me keep you from your work, I'm waiting on Mrs. Darcy to come in. I assume you've read this morning's Prophet?"

"_The wet owl... it started with that bloody, not supposed to be anything but harried, owl!" _Harry thought and absentmindedly nodded as affirmation to the ministers question. "Good, then you know this is serious, I'll have Mrs. Darcy fill you in after we've had our meeting with the Prime Minister." Shacklebolt said as Evelyn Darcy walked into the office. Evelyn Darcy was a petite woman with a clarity of mind not often found in magic folk. She was practical and old fashioned, as growing up in the mundane world during the second world war had forced her to be.

" Good morning Evelyn, did you get my owl?" Evelyn nodded absently, "Yes, I assume you want to leave as quickly as possible?" she asked whilst hurriedly shoving some parchment into a smart looking briefcase. _"She looks properly harried and not at all wet"_ Harry thought absently.

"Yes, right now would be best" Shacklebolt agreed. "Mr. Potter, I need you to hold the fort so to speak. There are a couple of things to take care of, but nothing as urgent as this, so please just do your regular work and I'll fill you in when I get back." Mrs. Darcy looked at Harry, waiting for a response. _"Yes, my regular work, I can do that. Regular is fine". _"Of course Mrs. Darcy"

"Good, well what are we waiting for minister?" Shacklebolt looked at Harry as if sensing something was dreadfully wrong but that something was so intangible, so fleeting that he couldn't put his finger on it. With a shrug he decided, that mystery would be solved another day. As both the minister and Mrs. Darcy left the office to go do whatever had them in such a state, Harry sat behind his desk and started to do his regular work. Still trying to pretend everything was fine, but subconsciously knowing something was most definitely not.

* * *

And then the headaches started again, that meant things where _really_ less than fine in Harry's book. He always assumed they where a by-product of basically dying in the final battle against Voldemort. In the beginning, during his seventh year at Hogwarts, they where a nearly daily occurrence. Leaving him so exhausted that he was next to useless during most of the day. This made him pick up occlumency again, the meditation exercises seemed to work, slowly but surely Harry built a shield around his mind. Locking the headaches out and leaving everything else in.

Later, looking back, it was quite easy to realise that's where the trouble started. Having mental issues combined with an awakening power that was attributed to something else entirely made occlumency a really, really bad choice. It gave Harry too much control over the mask that he had taken to wear every day. It made him stagnant. And mental stagnancy in an abused child who never got the necessary psychological care is a bad thing. Mental stagnancy in an abused child soldier who had to witness atrocities committed by a sociopath first hand and never received psychological care is a really, really bad thing. Put magic in the mix and you just can't predict what the outcome shall be. Or at least they couldn't predict it then. One thing that those with PTSD have in common is a need for control over their environment. Keep things simple and predictable and nothing will set you off. Change one variable in the pattern of control and the whole pattern changes and control is lost. When that control is lost the reactions to it can also be semi-predictable; fight, flight or freeze are the three choices. Avoidance of the situation that causes the lack of control will be the first subconscious step, but Harry already did that successfully for the last three years. And as mentioned before, you can't control every aspect of life.

* * *

"_I can't stay here, I need to go. Be somewhere safe, home... yes home is safe, leave now...go home" _Harry didn't notice the smaller objects on his desk, starting to shake. He didn't notice both of the desks slightly rising and he most certainly did not see half of the quills in the office suddenly lodging themselves in the ceiling. No, all Harry noticed was that his occlumency shields which seemed to be failing. And that meant he needed to go home before he had a complete breakdown at the ministry. Trying to find a quill, he never noticed all twenty of them dropping from the ceiling, one landing in his hand. Quickly scribbling a note to Mrs. Darcy, citing migraines as the reason for his sudden absence, he left the note on her desk and made his way back towards the apparition point. This also was out of character, the whole reason for Harry to pop in around rush hour was that people were less likely to notice him in the general hubbub. Now on the other hand the Atrium was quite empty, so a speeding wizard who bore a striking resemblance to the Wizarding worlds youngest hero is bound to be noticed.

As they say; bad luck comes in threes, Rita Skeeter certainly counted as number two. "Mr. Potter! My what a lucky coincidence to run into _you!_" She simpered whilst expertly blocking Harry's attempts at moving towards the apparition point. Her sickeningly sweet voice was only adding to the headache already there. Trying to hold in the feeling of extreme nausea and trying to ignore all the colours suddenly popping up in his vision. Harry went for blunt honesty "The feeling is not mutual Skeeter, now _move!_" The last word said between clenched teeth as speaking really was not the best of idea's right now. Of course a seasoned shark, like Rita Skeeter, can smell blood from many a mile away and so she pounced on her weakened prey. "Why Mr. Potter is that how you treat an old friend? Surely you have at least some basic manners, or have you been taking lessons from that little know it all? I can assure you, your leverage is long gone, it would be in your best interests to keep me as a friend deary." Half way through her sentence the sickening sweetness bled away into rows and rows of extremely sharp teeth just waiting for the opportunity to take a bite out of her prey.

Half way through her sentence Harry's headache spiked. At the end of the sentence Rita Skeeter was no longer in Harry's way, something he quickly capitalized on as he moved toward the apparition point. And, without holding the three D's in his mind, did a half turn and was gone with a little pop. Had he been in the state of mind to look backwards, or rather upwards, Harry would've seen the quite amusing sight of a thoroughly flummoxed Rita Skeeter hanging from the ceiling by her long fake nails. Al the whilst people below could quite easily see that Rita Skeeter belonged to the commando's in at least one sense of the word. Quite a few young minds where scarred that day.

* * *

Meanwhile Harry was quite lucky to avoid splinching. Deliberation is, after all, an important part of apparition. One he didn't have the mindset for in his hurry to escape from the clutches of that...person. Looking around him Harry saw that he, thankfully, landed in an ally out of the sight of the main roads and probably not too far from home. However, as said before, bad things come in threes and number three was just about ready to make an entrance.


	2. Chapter 2 -Pandora-

**Righto, so chapter two is here. Bit more introduction and setting the scene for the mingling of magic and mutations. Hope it's enjoyable :). **

**Breaking Façade**

**Chapter 2 -Pandora- **

Hermione was a lot of things; the smartest witch of her generation, the quintessential bookworm, driven, a muggleborn and most of all incapable of taking any social injustice. Before and during the war that last trait come through loud and clear, she fought with Harry and Ron by her side to hopefully cut away the disgusting malignant growth that was Tom Riddle and his Death Eaters. At Hogwarts she was considered one of the Golden Trio, there was some bigotry obviously. But she never labelled that beyond anything but childish jealousy and lack of proper education. Never in a million years did she expect this bigotry to exist past Hogwarts. What's more, she never imagined it would continue to exist after the war. After all, people must have seen what it did to society. How many, of those born to mundane parents, stayed in Wizarding Britain for more than a few years before giving up and finding work elsewhere? She did check, of course, no data was available. And that just showed how much this society cares about those born to those who have no magic. And that in and of itself set the background for her current project.

After accepting she would not be able to fulfil her ambitions within the ministry, she decided that the next step was one she saw many mundane born do. Go back to the normal world, get an education there and make a name or a life for yourself. Some decided other Wizarding communities were worth a try, but even in other countries, stagnation ran...well not really ran, but it existed.

And if there was one thing she prided herself on, it was her intellect. So after browsing through any and all possible career paths she chose Molecular Biophysics. A line of work that was so opposite to the views of the majority of the Wizarding public, she felt a vindictive pleasure to study that what made humans, human. To go beyond blood and heritage and see the base of our existence was, well to be quite honest, a power rush. In her chosen field she got the respect she deserved, she was no longer the brightest witch of her generation, she was a peer. She worked with minds far greater then hers, and it gave her perspective.

In her quest for knowledge she decided that she would find the gene responsible for magic. After all, all human traits and gifts are locked in to our DNA, wizards were no different.

* * *

As Harry found out, the mundane world was one of discovery and curiosity. Where the Wizarding world was stuck in their ways and new inventions and discoveries were few and far between. In the mundane world new discoveries seemed to be made almost daily. The lack of magic seemed to fuel a desire to understand, everything.

But where stagnation is a dangerous thing, so is gaining too much knowledge too fast. Some mysteries should stay exactly that, mysteries. But progress can't be stopped and once Pandora's box is discovered one can't help but be curious to what it could contain.

In the mundane world technology and evolution ran rampant. The human genome was being discovered and a complete map of it was published in 2003. For Hermione this was the basis of her research. For Hermione, though she didn't know it yet, this was her Pandora's box.

* * *

_August 25__th__ 2008_

Hermione was sitting on a bench in Ruskin Park, not too far from Kings College Hospital. She came here every once in a while to clear her mind of the after images of computer screens, numbers and colour coded bits and pieces. The weather was typical, a slightly overcast sky with the occasional light drizzle. Nothing spectacular, nothing about this day was any different from any other day at first glance.

And yet it was, in but a few hours she would get the chance to speak to none other than Dr. Henry McCoy. _"Dr. Henry McCoy!" _ Her inner fangirl was practically hyperventilating at the thought. Though she kept a professional façade, she really was quite excited.

For Hermione it was quite simple. Yes, she wanted to study magic on a more biological level. But there were certain obstacles she had to find her way around. Not the least of which were the restrictions placed on her via the Statute of Secrecy, one could not go spouting off about magic without either being labelled as insane or having the minds of everyone around her wiped of that knowledge. And in her mind there was almost no greater sin then messing with the minds of others. She still held an enormous amount of guilt related to putting her parents through exactly that.

Their relationship was never quite the same, violating the base rights of individuals, even with the best of intentions, left a certain blemish that was impossible to completely remove. Her parents understood her reasons, but only time could bring about their complete forgiveness. And only time could make Hermione forgive herself.

So, to be able to keep her research into the "magic gene" going. She took the opportunity with the widespread emergence of mutants. The so called "X gene" gave her insight into special abilities that humans had and helped her develop an hypothesis on how magic fit into the DNA profile. And today she would be able to discuss that hypothesis with someone who was a renowned expert on human genetics, specifically on mutations.

* * *

The appearance of humans with special powers came as a shock to the general public. In the beginning it wasn't so bad people were not accepting per say but not many were worried about it. The same passiveness that that exists when outbreaks of diseases are reported held strong. Most people just assumed this was a random thing and they would not be in any way affected by the mutations.

Most people were wrong, the emergence of mutations had become a well loved story of news outlets throughout the world. Slowly but surely the blame for certain natural disasters was placed at the feet of new mutants coming into their power. The easiest targets were those who looked different, strange eye colours, different skin, strange powers. People started to get wary of such individuals and those with a lesser intellect started treating them as outcasts. Starting from 1960 and onwards, governments around the world enter a different kind of cold war: who could create the first and strongest mutant super soldier. Programmes where set up throughout the world, none wanted to be left behind. Mutant ability was something to take advantage of and to be feared.

In 1973 at the unveiling of the Sentinel programme much more fearsome mutations where revealed. It was the first glimpse the world got of mutants who held so much power at their control. Mutations that didn't make their carriers look just as normal as the next person. Fear set in, fear of flying men being able to do bend metal and lift enormous weights. Fear of being not able to protect oneself against something that looks like a child but can control every movement of your body. Fear soon turned to hatred. As all minorities are hated by some subgroup of society, most were at least intelligent enough to see no real harm could be done by them. Mutants, however, could do harm. And so multiple organisations were created to battle for the continued existence of humanity.

The Wizarding world never really cared much for mundane matters. It was no different in this case. Wizards thought themselves invincible, after all, magic was a versatile tool to wield. And it had been that way since ancient times.

* * *

_August 25__th__ 2008_

Hermione was sitting in an office, across from her was the object of her earlier excitement. They had been speaking for over a couple of hours now, establishing the baseline of each other's knowledge. Hermione was just now bringing up the courage to start sharing her hypothesis.

"...so as far as I can see these mutations are both a natural occurrence and an unnatural one. The speed at which they are occurring these last decades seems exponential..." She stalled somewhat. But Dr. McCoy's face still held a look of polite professional interest.

"The natural part of it is evolution, genes have been and will always be changing" She continued. "The more artificial part in all of this is, according to my hypothesis, the abundant amount of energies used on and around our planet. There are multiple factors to take in to account obviously, but if I'm right not everyone with the X-gene is a mutant. Something outside of the human body is needed to activate the mutation either partially or fully. Obvious examples are nuclear radiation, solar and cosmic radiation. Now this would not account for any and all possible mutations, nor for the greater speed at which they are occurring. So I believe there must be another energy like influence that is affecting people more and more. I'm still quite unsure what this energy could be..." Hermione finished.

That last bit was an obvious lie. Magic would be that energy and even more interesting, it could potentially mean that those with magical gifts were mutants themselves a long time ago. Possibly the magic gene was bred into the populace creating a mutation that was dominant throughout family lines. It wasn't that much of a stretch in her mind, magic users all had similar gifts but some were different. Some took to transfiguration like a fish took to water, some even had so much internalised control they could change into animals or change the basic make-up of their bodies to look like another person all together. Healing, telepathy, telekinesis, communicating with animals, destroying matter and creating it out of air. There are many examples to give, there always was a baseline magic ability, but the gifts each individual had were more like mutations. Especially in the older families. For one such as herself it could even be said that magic was her mutation. Yet how did it occur? She had no magical heritage to speak of, as was so often pointed out by the more bigoted members of society. The same could be said of mutants, most did not have a "mutant heritage", they came from mundane citizens of the world.

"I must say, miss Granger the thought does hold some interest, even if only in the most theoretical sense" Hank told her. "I wouldn't mind continuing these conversations throughout your research and your dissertation, if this could be proven we could not only find the cause of mutations. But possibly also help those with gifts that isolate them from modern society. For now it seems, you have a goal to research towards, too little is known about the reasons for mutation and especially for the broadness of gifts demonstrated. It would be a delight to exchange idea's over the course of time, hopefully opening up, at the very least, new directions to push similar research into. " As he said this, Hermione could have sworn she saw the glimmer of intellectual hunger in his eyes.

"Let us keep in contact miss Granger". Hermione smiled. "Yes, that would be great Dr. McCoy".

* * *

For the next month or so, nothing changed. Hermione kept at her research finding more examples of radiation of all sorts affecting individuals differently. Either by them dying, or by themselves or the generations coming after them having mutations This was not difficult to prove, multiple others had gone through this thinking process before her and many articles where written about the influence of radiation on individuals.

So her main focus stayed on the Wizarding world. What kind of an influence could magic have on the mundane populace? How had the influence changed over the years? One tangent her mind went on was that the invention of electricity and its wide spread use, might have conflicted with ancient wards set up in area's most frequented by magic folk. But while that would explain the influence the mundane society had it still did not make magic a proper catalyst for the massive changes that part of the world's populace went through.

It was only when she looked into Erik Lehnsherr, better known as Magneto these days, that she found some clue as to what could be magic's role. The first recorded display of his powers was in a concentration camp... the world wars that happened in the last century had a less well known, even by the general Wizarding public thanks to that idiotic ghost teaching them, magical counterpart. Magic was not just used behind the scenes to influence kings and queens or government leaders. Mundane warfare changed and magical warfare changed with it.

During the WWII many of the lines between the Nazi's and their magical counterpart had blurred. The military top knew of magic and used it (or where used by it) to influence the masses and cause untold destruction. The scale of this influence reached far and wide, most continents were affected if only because of them sending aid to Europe to combat the reign of terror caused by Hitler and Grindelwald. Other atrocities could be named as equally as influential, if not on the same global scale. The purges happening in the former Soviet Union, the "minor" wars happening between the '60's and today. All of them had, at least as far as she could tell, a magical influence.

The importance of this fact had to do with how magic influenced before the 1900's and after. Before it was generally so that wizards hid themselves. Wars waged before this time were easy to either ignore or escape from. A warded house can make you difficult to find, apparating can take you away from the battlefield in seconds. But when the way war was waged changed, it became more difficult to ignore. Bombs don't care if you're in a warded house, apparating away from the battlefield only works if the battlefield is not an entire country or even continent. So wizards started using magic to protect themselves and eventually help those mundane leaders they thought would help their own cause.

As far as Hermione could tell, this could very well be a big cause of the growing mutant population. Magic, as an energy, was activating genes that might have laid dormant for generations to come. Magic used on truly enormous scales, was forcing the mutations to come faster, become stronger and who knows what other effects it had. The one thing that kept her wondering was that, if magic is so potent as to force a change in biology in what would amount to the blink of an eye in an evolutional sense. What would happen if one born of magic, with the power to control it, shape it...what would happen if someone like that willed a change upon themselves, subconsciously. What would happen for example if a halfblood, one with both the power to shape magic, but also with a chance of having the X-gene through their mundane parent, suddenly come into their mutation. Would magic exist alongside it or would magic do what it already did best and force changes to come at an exponential speed...

* * *

With a loud bang and an even louder landing, bumping against something which could have been a trashcan of some sort Harry landed in an alleyway. "What was that!? "Harry cursed his bloody damn luck thrice over. Being seen by mundanes wasn't that big of a problem, he was capable of doing a memory charm. Usually. Now on the other hand Harry was more focussed on the nosebleed that nicely combined with the even worse headache he got after apparating. He wouldn't be able to find the focus necessary to do the spell. His thoughts ground to a halt when he felt the first punch hit him in the side. With a shouted "Freak!" the second one followed not long after and after that it all became a blur.

He was suddenly back in his cupboard. The key phrase of freak reminding him of his uncle Vernon. The already incredible pain in his head pushed him back into memories of torture by the hand of Voldemort and his followers. The flashes awakened an anger inside of him, he needed to protect himself, needed to make sure he wouldn't be hurt again. While Harry was still stuck in his flashback, he couldn't notice the shattering of his mental shields. Nor could he notice the wave of power that threw the men against a brick wall with bone cracking force. Nor could he notice the following wave of mental anguish he unleashed, which caused most people in a two mile radius to black out. All Harry new was pain and the need to be safe, instinctively he did one more half turn and disappeared into thin air.


	3. Chapter 3 -Connections-

**Breaking Façade**

**Chapter 3 -Connections- **

_Excerpt from the dissertation of Dr. H. Granger, MSc MB._

_On: "The acceptance and inclusion of mutants as part of magical culture and society." _

_As presented to the Magical United Nations on the 26__th__ of April 2013_

Magic. Magic is chaos. Magic follows some rules, yes. But only arbitrarily. Because of this it is generally difficult to extrapolate what the consequences of large scale magic use will be. In olden days, when battles between large tribes of magic users took place, not many were interested in the environmental aftermath. There are some references to the usage of Stonehenge and the way Druidic practices coated the land, made it more alive. Sadly all traces of that are gone. But it brings up one important point.

Magic is, in its most base form, energy. And with enough outside influence or the right tools, energy can be changed or be harnessed. No change will be permanent, eventually it will revert back to its base form. But for the time it is present, it causes change. The same can be said of humans, the earth and possibly the universe. But energy is unending. The shells that house it, most definitely are _not_. In the case of the human shell, it is only truly ended by death. Most all other changes, that do not result in death, will tend to stick.

When talking of the immutability of magic in spells, there is one quite perfect example. The patronus charm is one of high power. It takes magic's energy and changes it, by the will and intent of the caster, into a guardian of sorts. After it has been cast it cannot be changed, it can only revert back to its base form, that of magic. This also neatly provides a vital clue on how magic operates. Magic is formed by intent coming from the right instrument, in this case the magical being putting forward the intent. Wands were not the end all, be all of magic use. Magic was used by many beings and creatures, before the first witch had even thought of using some wood to make her more powerful.

Therefore intent is the main part of transmuting magic to suit your needs. At the same time, intent usually comes from one person at a time. And this intent is meant for one small, in the scale of things, effect. After the intent has been met, the wish fulfilled, the magic reverts back to its base form.

Now imagine the scale of the first and second World War. Magic was used with the same intent by wizards throughout many countries for a long period of time. This intent was never to cause harm, there were exceptions to that rule, obviously, but on the grand scale of magic-use they meant less than nothing. No, magic was used to cause change. It is quite easy for us to classify actions and reactions as good and bad. But one thing that mustn't be forgotten is that every side of any conflict wholeheartedly believes that _they_ are in the right. _They _walk the righteous path. _They _ are doing what is necessary to force change unto a world that needs it.

So imagine the slight prod, into the energy that is magic, by casting a patronus charm. The process of mutating magic into a charm, letting it run its course and then reverting back into magic, takes maybe a couple of minutes. Now imagine multiple years of thousands of people continuously casting a patronus charm, saturating whole areas with magic and intent. Then imagine tens of thousands of people with no specific magic, but with a similar gene, with the intent of protecting or being safe. All that magic, formed to the intent of those around it could create untold destruction or untold beauty. None can ever be entirely sure what would happen in such a scenario.

Now take the above example and add to it a more abstract intent. The intent of change to happen. Not the minute specifics of a child who is hungry and wishes to change that. But the more powerful core intent of changing a situation for not just yourself, but for all who suffer it. To change the world into a better place.

Magic is energy. Energy is not sentient and even if it were, who is to say it would understand anything but the most base concepts of human intent? And when wishing for a change that deeply, our primal sides will automatically want this change to be beneficial to ourselves. Combine this primal want of beneficial change to mean something for itself, with the more modern human side who can show a greater degree of abstraction and use intent.

I propose that, because of the similarities of this truly massive use of intent, magic was wild. Looking for a target, looking to change something, anything. So that it could revert back to its base state. Combined with the primal wish for survival, the change happened on a molecular level. People were given the power to survive because they wished it. That, in my opinion, is what we are seeing today. The legacy of that one, primal, intent.

**There is no ego, there is only survival. **

* * *

_September 30__th__ 2008_

Harry appeared on his feet in the entrance hall of Grimmauld Place, falling to his knees immediately. He managed to weakly call out for Kreacher, before succumbing to his injuries and passing out. Said house elf popped in at the request, looked around, and had only one thing on his mind. "Master is ruining the carpet!" Kreacher shrieked in joy. After not getting the expected response he focussed his attention away from the bloodstains slowly turning the carpet...more blood red?

Muttering to himself Kreacher levitated Harry towards the master bedroom. "Foolish master...always makes trouble and never enough messes... who has to make cleanings again today...Kreacher does! Kreacher takes care of master so master can make more messes. " After he gently lay Harry on the bed and magicked the covers over him. Kreacher gleefully went downstairs to make sure the blood red carpet didn't turn any more or less blood red, all the while cackling quite insanely.

* * *

_October 1__st __2008_

Ronald Weasley was happy. There was nothing to not be happy about after all, he had his dream job to go to. His friends were in a good place, or in the case of Harry in as good as a place as could be expected, and his family was growing. Fleur and Bill having had their second child not two years ago. Little Dominique had, like her sister, her father and grandfather wrapped around her little finger. Little Molly, Percy's daughter, and little Fred were growing up quite fast as well. It was good to see the healing done to his mother and father with every birth. Soon they lost themselves in doting on their grandchildren. And, quite a happy coincidence, stopped bugging him about finding a nice girl and settling down. Bloody hell, the thought alone was scary enough, he was only now learning to actually live. He did not need someone else in his life right now. It was weird, none of the old golden trio had actually settled down. And none of them felt the need to.

"All right guys, two more laps and we're on to a skirmish match. Only chasers this time, so practice your passes!" He shouted towards his team...HIS team ha! Never in a million years would he have guessed that he would become part of the Chudley legacy. It truly was a dream come true.

To be honest it took him a long time to come into his own. That was something Ron had figured out and accepted. During his years at Hogwarts he was a follower. Not that there was anything wrong with that, especially with all the insane stuff Hermione, Harry and himself got up to. Ron was not capable of functioning under stress. But give him time to plan, to strategise, and magic happened.

The whole reason he got the job was because of chess if you can believe it. Ragmar Dorkins had been the Chudley's manager for a long time. His office was full of Chudley Cannon paraphernalia, which Ron obviously approved of whole heartedly, there was no better colour then Chudley orange. Amongst all the posters, cups, flags( and for some reason a really weird looking completely orange tapestry that was supposed to show all the members of the team, going back to the very beginning), there was a chess set. Not surprisingly, it was also orange. The game had been frozen in time as the boss man wasn't able to find the necessary moves to make to actually finish it. Ron had been summoned up to the office and after basking in the glorious orangeness of it all, couldn't help but notice the chess set. And in true Ron fashion couldn't help but finish the game. He was distracted enough that he didn't notice Mr. Dorkins come in. The man watched Ron finish the game and after that made him assistant coach. "Funny, how things work out at times" Ron thought with a small smile on his face.

"All right people! Another half an hour of working on team tactics, starting off with beaters against chasers. That mean's _evasive_ manoeuvring Dragomir!" He shouted towards the one chaser with a weird fetish for letting himself get hit by the bludgers. It really was no wonder the team had been in the bottom for so long. But _not_ for much longer if it was up to him, one more season of hard training and they should be able to give more of a fight to the other teams, he was sure.

After a last strategy meeting, in which Ron finally got the chance to use the interactive board Hermione got him for his birthday, he sent the team towards the locker rooms to clean up before going home. Ron stored his broom in the shed and apparated towards the Burrow. One thing that he just could not do was cook, thankfully his mum never complained about that.

* * *

Landing in the middle of the garden, and scaring five chickens half to death (the poor things never got used to that). He walked into, what would always be, his home. The Burrow was much more quiet these days. During the week Ron or his siblings would randomly come over to keep their mum and dad company, it had become somewhat of a tradition after the war. The weekends were usually busier, with the multitude of grandkids running around. It almost made the Burrow feel like when he was growing up. Walking into the kitchen, giving his mum a kiss on the cheek he went to sit down at the kitchen table. "Oh hello Ron, dear. How was work today?" Molly asked. "Not too bad, I think I almost have gotten Dragomir out of the habit of flying towards the bludgers instead of avoiding them. And Galvin is actually managing to catch the snitch more often than not these days" Ron told her happily. Molly hummed appreciatively whilst managing to stir three pots and checking the oven at the same time.

"Have you read today's Prophet dear? Dreadful news, simply dreadful!" Molly asked whilst nodding her head towards the newspaper lying folded on a corner of the table. Ron quite honestly gave up on reading the rag after the years of war were over. Nothing completely truthful was ever in there, so what was the use? He had actually, thanks in large part to Hermione, found himself reading The Independent. A real muggle, no _mundane_, newspaper! And it was incredible, Hermione had even told him that there where many more like it. Some more like the Prophet, some more like the Quibbler. But more than just the two the Wizarding world had. It was quite the reveal to Ron.

After Hermione became disillusioned with life in the Wizarding world she and him lost contact for a while. He never had much chance of emerging himself in the mugg.._mundane_ world and, quite honestly, understood very little of it. He made an effort, mostly through his dad, over the last few years to gain an understanding of how things worked. Specifically to understand Hermione better, but also out of pure curiosity of what could get a witch to leave her own community to go back to life without magic. He just didn't understand. Over the last few years Hermione and Ron had a couple of heated discussions about the society he grew up in. And while it at first her opinions greatly pissed him off, after thinking on it he had to admit to the faults present in current Wizarding culture.

Still, getting curious to what had his mum so worried, he picked up the Prophet and read the front page article. Thankfully it wasn't written by that ..._Skeeter. _

* * *

_**Is our protective Magic failing?**_

_By: Dervinda Greymist_

_For over 700 years the wards on Diagon Alley have held strong. The magic protecting our busiest shopping alley has been present to keep muggles out and it has always worked. Occasionally a small child would wander in. One who would in later years receive his or her Hogwarts letter. This is to be expected, of course. _

_But during all this time, never has a full muggle simply walked through the doors of the Leaky Cauldron and into Diagon Alley itself. Impossible you say, well not any more. Late yesterday afternoon a muggle did exactly that! I know readers must be as shocked as I was when I first heard the news, but it is true. And it gets worse. _

_This reporter, obviously, had to investigate this, what seemed at the time, ludicrous claim. When first hearing of it, it sounded like nothing more than a story made up by one of Tom's more inebriated customers. But to my surprise, the story was corroborated by none other than Mr. Ollivander, Mr. Fortesque and Madam Malkins themselves! _

_This reporter has taken the time to reconstruct the story as accurately as possible. Around what seemed to be teatime a young girl , completely dressed in muggle clothing, walked into the Leaky Cauldron as any of us would do, after catching a ride on the Knight bus. After looking around for a while she followed an unsuspecting wizard through the back alley into Diagon alley itself._

_What follows next is slightly unclear, but apparently after walking around for a while she came to Gringots. There she started screaming and shouting at the guard Goblins standing at the front of the bank. When she progressed to throwing objects at the guards, one vigilant witch or wizard decided that the aurors should be called before the next Goblin war would start of right then and there. _

_When the aurors apparated in near the girl, bystanders described her getting even more frightened. It was at that point apparent that she would not be calmed, therefore one of the aurors decided that stunning her would be preferable. When the stunning spell left his wand, the girl started glowing according to eye witnesses. What followed was a massive explosion that took out many a window and knocked all people in the vicinity down to the ground. One sharp eyed wizard saw the girl running in the direction of Knockturn alley. She has not yet been found. _

_After the incident, aurors tried magic detection spells on the location where the girl was standing. But all readings for that location came up negative. The girl, so it seems, had no magic to speak of! This reporter has tried contacting the DMLE, but no response has been given. If more news on this situation becomes available it will be brought to you first! _

_For the reactions of the Goblins, see page 4_

_For a brief overview of the history of Diagon alley, see page 6_

* * *

Ron slowly put the paper down, not sure on whether to dismiss the story out of hand or to be as worried as his mother seemed to be. The strange, magical like powers, seemed to register in his mind in connection to something else he had read about in the muggle newspaper. But he couldn't place it exactly. Looking towards his mum, he decided the Prophet was just sensationalising things again, the auror in question had probably miscast the magic detection spell and contaminated the scene. "I'm sure it's nothing to worry about mum. It's probably just the Prophet being the Prophet again. And, look at it this way, even if something was going on in Diagon, at least the aurors are aware of it. So they'll work it out". Ron said, trying to reassure his mother. Molly looked at Ron, still with a slight worry lurking in her eyes. "That may be so, but it's still a worrisome thought. But I suppose you're right". "Could you call your father in for dinner, dear? He's out in his shed again. " And with that question, life in the Weasley household returned to normal.

One of the few times the Prophet actually reported somewhat accurately it was barely believed. Most of Ron's generation had lost faith in the Wizarding paper. Not enough to stop reading it, but at the very least to take everything in it with a pot of salt.

* * *

_October 4__th__ 2008_

Saturday afternoon found Ron with an armful of tiny children all begging him for a piggy back ride. The Burrow was filled to the brim with his brothers, sister, their wives and kids. Ron, being the gentle giant that he was, had been playing with all his nieces and nephews for the last 3 hours. And he was feeling his age. "Sorry, oh tiny ones, your uncle Ron is getting a bit tired. Maybe you can try one of your dads to come out and play with you" All that answer got him was three pouting faces and a kick to the shin. While Ron was hopping around on one foot, the kids quickly found their next target as grandma Molly came out with freshly baked biscuits. "Bloody hell... tiny demons" Ron muttered as he sat down to a disproving look from Molly and knowing looks on the faces of the other parents.

Whilst the kids were happily munching on the biscuits, the adults where quietly talking amongst themselves. Ginny looked up from her conversation with Luna and asked Ron if he had heard anything from Harry or Hermione lately. "Not really" Ron said. "I know Hermione is busy with a research project, we occasionally meet up for lunch. Last time she was talking about meeting some really important science-tist, something to do with her job. Didn't really get the importance, but she seemed excited." Ron frowned."Haven't heard anything from Harry in a while, but you know how he gets. If I haven't heard anything by Monday, I'll probably pop by after work." Molly snapped to attention at hearing Harry's name "Make sure you do dear, and invite him and Hermione over. The both of them just do not take good enough care of themselves, a couple of home cooked meals and company will do them good". Ron agreed, and said as much.

* * *

Harry was not doing fine. Actually, fine was out of the window. Harry was feeling like shit. His head hadn't stopped pounding since Tuesday and after the beating he took by those two mundanes the rest of his body wasn't in any better shape. Besides that he thought he might be coming down with something, his magic had been acting funny the last couple of days. Though that could just be the headache that kept on threatening to spill over in a massive migraine.

He had owled his boss to tell her he was taking some time off to get over a sickness. But he was worried, Kreacher kept looking at him funny. More funny than usual for the senile old elf, that is. Harry always had a multitude of healing potions stockpiled, a left over habit from his days with the aurors. They healed his body up well enough. According to his own medical advice, all he needed now was bed rest. So he slept, fitfully. All the while not noticing his magic changing his body to a massive degree.

* * *

Eleanor was scared. She had been scared for over a week now, after blasting her abusive foster mum across the room, she ran away. Then she got lost in London, found a weird pub. Went through the looking glass and hadn't found a way out yet. After the weird teleporting people with sticks tried to shoot something at her she had snapped, again. She just couldn't understand what was happening. And now she was kidnapped by some strange looking hag who kept her in a small, dark room, tied to a chair without windows or access to any of the most basic commodities.

There might have been other kids here, she thought she heard at least one. But his screams did anything but comfort her. _"Not the nails!... Don't take my teeth!"_ She had blocked him out after that. As she heard a shuffling near, what she assumed, was the door. Her heart rate started rising, panic started setting in and she had few options. She couldn't fight, she couldn't flee...all she could do was freeze and hope...pray for someone to rescue her.

* * *

On Knockturn alley, aurors gave up questioning the paranoid residents as a lost cause. As they made their way back to Diagon Alley, one of them could've sworn she saw, out of the corner of her eye, a hag peddling fingers and teeth. The fingers had nails with what looked like muggle nail polish on them. But as she turned around the hag had been swallowed up by the shifty masses of Knockturn. And she dismissed the idea completely.


End file.
